


you’ve got me like a breath of fresh air

by ilgaksu, ShatterinSeconds



Series: i don't say no /and you don't say no (the carmen sandiego au) [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Carmen Sandiego Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Fluff, Heist, M/M, Pining, can be read as a Standalone fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 14:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19770601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilgaksu/pseuds/ilgaksu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatterinSeconds/pseuds/ShatterinSeconds
Summary: “Lance,” Keith mutters, suddenly grabbing onto his hand. He’d been slowing his pace apparently. “I told you not to wear those damn shoes.”Lance sends him a crooked smile. “They’re fucking fantastic; I have no idea what you could be insinuating.”(or, a standalone oneshot for ilgaksu and I’s Klance Carmen Sandiego AU)





	you’ve got me like a breath of fresh air

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on a whim last night after ilgaksu told me she was going to post the first chapter. This oneshot is set a few years prior to the first one in this series but it can be read as a standalone piece. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

There is only one true way to escape the public’s eye or the police’s eye or even Interpol’s--if they’ve fucked up a heist that terribly. Which they almost did. Lance may have been a touch too cocky, adding a little more pop in his step than he should have had as a tourist--and yeah maybe he should have listened to Keith and left these shoes behind in the hotel because wearing five hundred dollar designer boots to a heist, that glitter in the best lighting, was not the most thought out decision. And yet, maybe it’s partially Keith’s fault. Who was too careless when stealing the jewels, who accidentally knocked the glass onto the floor--it shattering into a million pieces, sliding across the black tile. 

In the end, it had been Keith who caused the alarms to blare, so really, Lance’s designer shoes? Still an okay decision. 

Except now his feet hurt, as he pounds against the concrete in Madrid, racing through pedestrians while making it seem like a friendly sprint as he falls a step behind his partner. As if he’s a foolish tourist who forgot what time his dinner reservations were or when a museum closed. Sometimes Lance even has fun messing with the locals, pretending he doesn’t understand Spanish and only speaks French. 

At least two months have passed since the Guild cleared him to take part in field work, to be officially designated as Keith’s partner. They are already the best team their organization has had in a long while, and they make the most out of the jobs they’re handed. Despite their excellence, mistakes happen. They’re both far from perfect after all. 

“Lance,” Keith mutters, suddenly grabbing onto his hand. He’d been slowing his pace apparently. “I told you not to wear those damn shoes.”

Lance sends him a crooked smile. “They’re fucking fantastic; I have no idea what you could be insinuating.” His partner only blinks, as if knowing that Lance’s toes ache, that he probably has a blister on both of his heels. So Lance stares at him in turn and refuses to let the pain cause him to fold.

Here’s Keith, black jeans, a black shirt, his long black hair french braided away from his face--Lance’s doing, of course. Here’s Keith who refuses to wear the red leather jacket Lance bought for him recently (from Gucci--it had cost two thousand dollars from a boutique in Milan but was worth every penny to see Keith’s scowl) but he greedily accepted the authentic Italian pastry Lance also bought for him. Him and his damn sweet tooth. One day it’ll get both of them in trouble. 

Here’s Keith who is able to put up with _all_ of Lance’s antics, somehow, and has never gotten annoyed to the point where he’d leave. 

Keith rolls his eyes, and suddenly they’re walking now. His fingerless gloves scratch against Lance’s palm, a quick reminder that they continue to hold hands. “You’re struggling to run. You’re hopeless.”

“Not always,” Lance says.

“Yeah,” Keith replies, almost with a laugh in his words, “lucky for me, not always.”

Something sharp pierces the air between them. Startled, Keith’s eyes widen, mouth parting in a wordless thought.

“Police,” Lance says lowly, walking until the back of Keith’s legs hit a bench and force him to sit. If this is it for them, Lance is going to try the one thing he’s always wanted to do--as a tactic, of course. He’s seen it in enough movies. It has to work.

“What are y--”

Lance ignores him, falling beside Keith as one of his legs slide easily between Keith’s and his hands cup Keith’s face, fingers twirling loose strands of hair that have escaped from his braid. As the sirens grow louder, the sound bouncing off of the buildings to echo in their ears, their hearts racing, Lance kisses Keith. 

Lance’s first thought: chapped lips. Second: Keith is a decent kisser. Once he gets over the immediate shock that is, realization settling on him, and his hands find Lance’s waist, fingers lightly playing with his hips. Which creates Lance’s third thought: Keith is surprisingly pliant with this ruse. But Keith’s a master thief, a spy; he knows what a cover is, and Lance really shouldn’t be surprised.

But he is. 

If Lance has a fourth thought, he doesn’t remember it, becoming lost in the rhythm of Keith’s kisses. And his soft breath that flutters across Lance’s skin whenever they part for air before diving in again. 

No one pays them any attention, but Lance refuses--they both refuse--to let go until the sirens are only a memory. If there were any footsteps belonging to the police, they passed their bench without hesitation.

When Lance draws back, Keith’s eyes remain closed, his long lashes dancing across the tops of his cheekbones. They had attempted the heist during broad daylight--because it would be easier to blend in with the crowd and the jewels were in storage and Keith promised they could do it--but now twilight is approaching. The fading sunlight glints off of Keith’s dark hair, painting a few strands gold. 

Keith still has his eyes closed even after a minute passes, his lips wet and swollen. There’s a steady rise and fall of his chest. As Lance stands, his hands finally lift from Keith’s skin and then the familiar violet-gray irises reveal themselves. Dark and intense. His eyes track every one of Lance’s movements. From the laid-back way he stands, to his hands now resting in his pockets. Lance makes a point to stare anywhere but at Keith’s lips. 

“We should go,” Keith says, standing as well, with his voice surprisingly strong for someone who had been kissed breathless. Clearly, Lance needs to up his skills. 

“Too bad we can’t stay a little longer.” Madrid is beautiful, not that he has seen much of it. His time had been mostly spent scouting museums, verifying their target. They did make a dinner reservation at some fancy-ass restaurant but Lance supposes they’ll have to cancel it now. A shame.

Though, this city can’t compare to Paris--and will never ever compare to Paris in the coming years. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be Lance’s second favorite city now. A _close_ second. Five out of five stars--he even knows the perfect spot to kiss your partner to get away from the police. He should add a review on _Yelp_.

“We can come back.” When Lance turns, Keith is close, a few breaths away, and he’s staring at Lance with an intensity he has never seen before--not even when he buys Keith a slice of chocolate cake from his favorite bakery in Paris. 

Lance grins. “I’ll be looking forward to it.” 

They act like nothing occurred, fluke accident or something… and yet it continues to happen again and again and again. So maybe it’s not such a fluke. It’s just a favored tactic; that’s all.

 _That’s all_ , Lance will tell himself repeatedly from here on out.

It’s not true.

**Author's Note:**

> Using PDA as a way to escape the authorities is one of my favorite tropes, and I fully believe Lance would be all for it.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos, and follow the series for more fics:)


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